


Tested Waters

by OnyourRadar



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: ...a lot of masturbation, A little bit of Eliott doing the spoiling, A little bit of spoiled Lucas, Boys In Love, Cum Eating, Eliott is whipped, Explicit Sexual Content, Exploration of sex in a relationship, Fingering, Intercrural Sex, Jealousy, Kissing, Lola works at a bordello, Lucas falls on the asexual spectrum, Lucille is just a meddling character, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Out of character characters, PWP, Porn with a little bit of Plot, Rimming, Rough Fingering, Sexually active Eliott, Smut, Spit As Lube, and vouyerism, blow-jobs, demi-sexual Lucas, gonna try to cover all the bases here kids, gosh so much smut I can't take it, graphic depiction of sex, mentions of anal sex, never explicitly stated that Lucas is demi-sexual, or at least thoughts of it, porn with feeling, quickly established relationship, sister relationship with Eliott, small bit of exhibitionism, vivid daydreaming, whore houses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:33:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27199234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyourRadar/pseuds/OnyourRadar
Summary: Eliott is really into sex. The man he loves is not. But that's okay. He could live with that.He has his hands. He has his imagination. He has Lucas.That's enough.--or--An exploration on sex in a relationship. Sort of.
Relationships: Eliott Demaury/Lucas Lallemant
Comments: 41
Kudos: 162





	Tested Waters

**Author's Note:**

> Just gonna leave this here and go. There's a reason I don't write smut. Please, PLEASE don't read if it's not your cup of tea. The Boys are OOC in this one.

There is a man that Eliott doesn't know. A man that he meets on occasion at the bar that he frequents after cases that drag out and he is in need of a wind down—being the head inspector was a job that carried the weight of ghosts and Eliott was one to enjoy a glass of whiskey on occasions with this stranger.

They don't talk much but do share a drink or two before either one of them would tip their chin and call it a night and then leave—alone. Eliott recalls the first time he sits two seats away at the bar from this man.

Elegant in his gait. Sliding smoothly into his stool and looking perfectly slim in a white button down, a tanned oxford vest that cinched his waist and perfectly tailored trousers that were fitted to shapely legs that were enticing in the way they spread, almost loosely beneath the bar. He would be lying if the thought didn't cross his mind of having this complete stranger in his bed, naked and writhing—those legs spread and held open, thighs quivering as Eliott thrust languidly, watching his length disappear and reappear, at his own leisure. 

Eliott could see the way his strangers cheeks would flush on that long and pointed face, lush lips parted and breath punched out as he stared up at Eliott through wet lashes and lust hazed blue,  _ blue _ eyes. 

Eliott imagines slow sex. Of driving him mad to the point that he is a blubbering mess and the words and sounds that are dragged from his lips make little sense and simply sing of his pleasure. He'd like to take him slow; pull out and flip him so his face is pressed against pillows, drool seeped into fabric and fingers clenched in his bedding, their bedding, as Eliott lifts his lithe body from the waist until he is on his knees. 

Ass in the air, cheeks spread obscenely and that blushing hole winking at him; gaping and begging. But Eliott would ignore his stranger's desire; his wants. As he runs his fingers lovingly up and down the expanse of creamy skin, thighs that would hug at his waist tight when he fucks hard into his body. Down to the calves that would shake from the force of exertion. 

Eliott closes his eyes to the thought of those legs pushing past their limits as his stranger straddles him. Knees bent and long, long arms that have never seen a day's labor, would wrap around his neck. Eliott would look up at that face. His lover's mouth hung open, panting as those knees worked to lift and drop that body over and over and over again on his cock. 

He would want to cum. But he won't. Because Eliott wants to see his lover completely undone. Wants to see him worked to a state of being where his body tingles and shivers from multiple releases. Where he pulls away and whines and pushes back and fucks himself onto Eliott's cock even though he is overly sensitive. Eliott wants his lover to fall apart before he takes his pleasure. 

Eliott wants him to remember the man who put him in that state. He who loved him until he broke. Who kissed the back of his thighs and bit his cheeks—leaving marks of red and purple, who sucked love on his hips and left lingering kisses up and down his spin. 

Eliott wants him to remember who held him close against his chest as his stranger drops from euphoria and comes back down to earth.

But more importantly, Eliott wants this stranger to want the same thing. He remembers the first night they met and wished he had acted on his instincts when he caught that shy smile over the rim of a whiskey glass. The amber liquid, a cool warmth that glistened on plump and dusty rose lips. Those heartbreak blue eyes that were welcoming. 

Eliott should have smiled back, charming like he does with the ladies at the brothel and asked for his name before giving his own in exchange. That way he could hear that same voice that would ask the bartender for a second drink— voice soft, sure, and sweet like nectar— calling out his name in a moan. 

" _ Eliott."  _

A dangerous sound, Eliott thinks. Knows. Knows that he would be weak to the whims of that voice. He would give the world to this man if he asked for it. 

Eliott smiles wryly at his thoughts of a stranger in his bed and in his heart. He thinks maybe, he has lingered for long enough so he motions for the bartender to serve up two drinks and when it is placed in front of him he carries them over, three seats over today, and places one down in front of his stranger, replacing the empty glass that those nimble fingers were idly swirling. 

When those eyes meet his, the amusement and annoyance playing across the planes of his face, Eliott is startled by how his heart flutters. 

"Took you long enough," he states, his chin resting in the palm of his hands and he looks pointedly at Eliott, a slight pout to those lips. 

"Thought I would have to wait forever for you to make a move." 

Eliott is pleasantly surprised by the forwardness. He likes the way the thought of this man, waiting forever for him, warms his chest and finds that he breaks out into smile easily. 

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to keep you waiting."

Apologies don't come easy but Eliott doesn't need to forcefully pull the words out because he  _ is _ sorry for all the wasted time. 

"Mm, you can make it up to me. With dinner, how bout it…"

"Eliott." 

" _ Eliott."  _

Eliott finds it hard to breathe with the way he whines out his name, a little breathless like he's been running, not just simply engaging in conversation. 

"Lucas, but you can call me Lu, if you'd like." 

And Eliott tastes the name on his tongue silently. Whispers in over and over in his head as he smiles back at Lucas. 

Lucas who has been waiting for him to make a move, coming to the same bar knowing when Eliott would be there, and being patient when it looks like patience could kill him. 

"There's a place down the street from here—they serve the best pizza in town—and they're open late," Lucas suggests.

Lucas, who is a little more than forward and isn't afraid to voice what he wants but is too shy to make the first move.

Eliott feels light. Lighter than he has in a while. He downs his drink and pulls out his wallet to pay his bill and Lucas's. He finds delight in the way Lucas's face lights up at the sight of it and thinks he will cherish spoiling this man. 

"What are we waiting for?" 

  
  


Being with Lucas is electrifying. Eye opening as Eliott quickly learns he is more than a pretty face and it is something in the way he speaks, runs circles around the suspects and lays undeniable evidence down at their feet, makes Eliott want to swallow his tongue. 

It makes him want to kick everyone out of the room and hold Lucas down and fuck him over the table until his breath stutters and spills out in moans. Because his intelligence is incredible and Eliott is struck with awe every time the man opens his mouth to speak and recount every detail his sharp eyes caught. 

But being with Lucas wasn't just a flurry of solved cases and pouring over crime scenes. Being with Lucas is soft touches and standing close. It is spoiling his lover rotten and attending to his eclectic taste and overlooking some missing valuables that strike the young masters fancy. 

Being with Lucas is watching him taste delicious parcels at fancy restaurants or small humble food stalls; whatever strikes his fancy for that day. 

It was, "Eliott _ ,  _ that watch you're wearing is beautiful and..."  _ It's yours, anything.  _

Eliott would like to think he was more than lucky, though some would say the opposite. That it was Lucas who reaped the benefits of dating the former gangster, made Chief Inspector. 

Like how Lucille would narrow her gaze at Lucas as he carefully ate his meal, a quiet departure from his usually gusto, so as to not spill on the brand new silk shirt Eliott had gifted him; something Lucas had asked for in lieu of payment for the case he had solved days ago. 

In privacy, or a moment away from the watchful gaze of his unofficial  _ official _ detective, Lucille would hang off Eliott's arms, a whine to her voice. 

"He's using you for your money and gifts Eliott, can't you see past your cock for more than a second?" 

To that all Eliott can do is raise a brow in question. Because he doesn't give anything he doesn't want to give. Because Lucille, though her heart is in the right place, doesn't get to see their slow mornings with Lucas standing in the kitchen wearing his silk pajamas and whipping up a breakfast, traditional because that is what Eliott likes, before serving it with softness in his eyes. A softness that Eliott can say, he has yet to see directed at anyone else. 

"You think anyone can use me if I do not want it?" He throws the question at her and flicks her nose for good measure, the move causing her pout to deepen. But Lucas wasn't using him so much as Eliott feels  _ of  _ use to his lover. 

He wants to be the one to provide everything. Relishes in the bright smiles whenever he gifts Lucas something he had been asking for, feeding him, and loving him better than anyone else could. 

He wasn't thinking with his cock in the least. Because in the three months they've been together, Eliott has learned quite a bit about Lucas. 

He wasn't one to value sex over the soft and tender gestures of being cuddled from behind, of lingering kisses on the neck, the gentle brushes of fingers across his shoulders as they passed one another, as they stood in each other's space. 

Eliott has not had the luck and pleasure of taking Lucas to bed beyond spooning him from behind. And sometimes at night while Lucas was drenched deep in sleep and he rolled and pressed closely against Eliotts hardened length, the inspector would find his mind growing hazy with lust. 

Where his hips would want to thrust forward, getting as close to that heat as possible but his head told him not to. To show restraint and to respect Lucas's wishes not to engage in sex just yet. 

He would spend those nights gritting his teeth until the pressure was too much. Then he would carefully extract himself and ensure that Lucas was still deep in sleep before going into the bathroom and fisting his cock and biting down on his knuckles to muffle his groans. 

He'd spit in his fist and stroke his length, imagining the tight heat that taunted him. How he could palm the smooth cheeks and spread them, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles over the wrinkled skin and thumb catching on the rim before pushing in and pulling out eliciting short panting gasps from Lucas. 

Perhaps Lucas would beg. Moan and plead as Eliott knelt until his hot breath ghosted against that hole, wet and waiting. He could practically see the jerk of those hips, trying hard to get away as Eliott flattened his tongue and licked at him, tasting him like he was starved before stiffening his tongue and pressing in, his fingers working in along with it. Pulling Lucas open so Eliott could reach deeper. 

" _ Eliott, please...m-more, ah!"  _

Those nights, Eliott spilled into his fist embarrassingly fast, his body shuddering and muscles spasming as his breath caught in the height of his pleasure. 

He'd quietly clean up the mess, evidence of his wanton desires before heading back to bed—Lucas in the same state he'd left him. 

Eliott wonders sometimes if he is too much, imagining Lucas in such ways. If somehow he goes too far. But he only has that one kiss so far that he thinks on quite often, too often to say the least. 

When he caught Lucas at the perfect time, early in the morning and just finishing up breakfast, his hair still slightly ruffled from sleep. 

Eliott couldn't help it as he came up from behind and held him, his arms wrapping loosely around his waist as he pressed up close, his chin resting on Lucas's shoulder as he breathed in the scent of the other. 

Lucas turned in his embrace and in that moment, Eliott felt a little overwhelmed just as that face caught the slant of morning sunlight filtering in from his french doors, just right. Where his breathtaking blue eyes grew lighter, glittering and that same soft smile stretched his lips. 

Eliott pressed a kiss that was far from the small taps of lips that they've shared since the night at the bar when he finally introduced himself. It was an insistent pressure where Eliott hadn't pulled away, his hands moved to cup Lucas's face, keeping him in place as his tongue darted out and swiped at lips that parted in surprise more than anything. 

But he dipped his tongue in and mapped Lucas out with an urgency that he didn't know he had in him that day. Licked into him so deeply he drew out a gasp and took that as an invitation to continue. He drowned in the warmth, felt the way Lucas tried hard to breathe through his nose as Eliott demonstrated exactly why the women and men in his life sang his praises. 

When he pulled away slow, that mouth still open, Eliott dropped kitten licks inside and sucked on lips, nibbling until they were a cherry red. 

He was positively glowing at the sight of Lucas's flushed face, glazed eyes and heaving chest and when he pressed closer he could feel the erection tenting in his pants. Could practically imagine the way the red tip weeped precum and begged to be touched. 

But when he reached to palm the length, Lucas scrambled away his fingers moving to grip at Eliott's biceps, those long fingers tightening to stop him from continuing; flustered. 

"I'm not… I'm not ready." 

Eliott understands. His cock tight in his pants deflated at being turned down but he centered himself, leaned forward and rested his forehead against Lucas's chest and nodded, welcomed the arms that came up to wrap around his shoulders. 

The quiet, "thank you" whispered, nearly broke him. He looked up that day and pecked those spit-slicked lips. Because showing restraint was the least he could do. 

He tells Lucille as much, that being with Lucas isn't about the sex. But more for that warmth that settles in his stomach and his chest. That warmth that climbs throughout his body and leaves his fingers and toes tingling. 

"I know what I'm doing." 

  
  


Eliott does not know what he is doing. 

Because they move onto five months and it feels like five months of him touching himself to the image of Lucas spread out in different positions, all images that his mind supplies. It becomes a constant thought in the back of his mind when he eats, when he sleeps. 

As he works. Close in proximity with Lucas. 

Today is not much different. 

Eliott wraps up a case, a hard one with a body count too high for Eliott to get over quickly, despite having the perpetrator locked up and awaiting execution. 

He sits at his desk, head bowed and fingers weaved and shading his face from view. He feels the shift, the presence to his left before fingers run soothingly through his hair. When he glances up, Lucas is there, looking somber.

An expression he doesn't want to see on the other man's face. Eliott pushes his chair back and invites the shorter of the two to sit either on the desk in front of him or in his lap. He can't deny feeling a bit disappointed when Lucas hops onto the desk but Eliott doesn't voice it. Simply moves closer so he is boxed in by those legs that he admires in his dreams and when they first met. 

"I should have tried harder." 

Eliott shakes his head and uses his hands to bring Lucas's knuckles to his lips hoping that his love is conveyed in the gesture. That Eliott will not accept Lucas's guilt or allow him to blame himself.

Lucas bends at the waist and drops a kiss of velvety smooth lips on his forehead and when Eliott moves, tilts his head up to ask for one on his lips Lucas hesitates. His descent is slow, slow enough for Eliott to realize he was nervous, like he doesn't want to.

Like he is forcing himself. Eliott meets him more than halfway. Lays a kiss on his button nose, telling him it's alright. That what he gives is enough. Eliott can accept that maybe Lucas isn't attracted to him the same way he is to Lucas. 

But he wants to ask what this is, that they have. Maybe it's how he pulls away, slowly so as to memorize the way his lips unstick from skin, or the way his eyes look up at Lucas imploring, that causes the other to chew on his lips anxiously, crossing his arms across his chest and pouting. 

Lucas huffs and steels himself, physically, as his shoulders straighten.

"Eliott, do you believe me when I tell you that I love you?" 

Eliott finds that he does and nods. He believes it with such tenacity that his whole self rejects the notion of Lucas not loving him. 

"Lu Lu, I don't think you could live without me at this point." And if he could, Eliott was not above making it so that he couldn't. Because no matter what they were, no matter if  _ his _ Lucas finds him attractive or not, Eliott knows that he owns this man's heart. 

"It's not that I don't want to be with you intimately, I just never feel the desire to, if I'm honest," Lucas admits this truth like it physically pains him. He looks contrite, eyes down cast and brows furrowed in concern. 

"Lu…am I—do you not find me attractive?" Desirable? Eliott asks with a small smile. Because as wounded as his pride may be, he can accept it. If to keep Lucas in his life. He would accept it. 

It's as if something jolts Lucas into acting. His eyes widening and hands coming up to cup at Eliott's face, hands emitting that warmth that Eliott loves so much. 

"No! No, of course I find you handsome. No one could beat my Eliott in looks." He tsks, tongue clicking and glances away, sly. "Look at you, knowing how handsome you are and still fishing for compliments. You’re too much." 

Eliott breaks out into smile and holds onto the thin wrists, tipping them so he can lay kisses in the palm of Lucas's hands and he delights in the blush that lays in wait for him to kiss away on those high cheekbones. 

"Every time I've ever engaged in sex I never enjoyed it. I either felt nothing or found it unpleasant." 

Eliott stands slowly, lays his hands on the edge of the desk until he boxes his lover in and they stand close. So close that all he had to do was tilt his head the slightest and he would be tasting those lips that Lucas denied him. 

But he simply enjoys the closeness and how it makes Lucas stammer and lose his words. 

"Lu, I can make it good for you, do you doubt that?" His words caress those lips gently, in a whisper filled with desire. He wants to curse all those who had Lucas before he had the chance. 

Because he wants to make it so good that he would ruin anyone else for Lucas. Wants to show Lucas that no one can do it like him. He could make Lucas's body strum with pleasure and make him scream and cry for more, more,  _ more.  _

If given the chance. But it doesn't look like he'd be given even that from the way Lucas lowers his eyes demurely. 

“I don’t think I’ll be ready for it.”  _ For you. Anytime soon _ . 

Eliott rolls the bitter taste of rejection around in his mouth and swallows it down because he thinks of Lucas feeling guilt and it is everything he doesn’t want. He can continue this way. He must if he is to keep Lucas close. So as not to lose him. He thinks things are good. 

He takes a finger and lifts his chin so their eyes meet. 

“I can wait. And if it never happens I’ll still be happy with my Lu.” He reassures Lucas maybe to reassure himself. 

He knows it's the right thing to say because Lucas moves in for a hug, tightens his arms slightly and draws Eliott in close. 

But he means it. 

He means it even when the desire he has inside him spills over the river banks of his heart. It drives him a little crazy. Because before Lucas, Eliott held the company of many women and the occasional man who he welcomed into his bed. 

Pleasure was sought when he wanted it and even when he didn't but did just because he could. Because he was an attentive lover. 

One who made the nights for the ladies at brothels a little less lonely—where work didn't quite feel like work. Eliott took and gave generously. 

It made him feel good to know that their bodies craved his touch, searing, hot, and gentle on their overused flesh. 

He wanted to lavish the same type of loving on Lucas. The way he'd suck and nip on plump breasts, his fingers pulsing with restraint as he laid blazing trails all down their stomachs and caressed between their thighs, dipping into their wet heat. 

Eliott was never just a customer. He was different. He kissed them and fed them love, tenderly, licked and nibbled at them without being asked. Used his tongue and fingers and fucked them good. And when they cried and begged him to come back, they meant it. But he hasn't been back and his body is going through withdrawals, his hand not being enough. 

And he is using it quite a lot. So frequently, he is a little ashamed to admit how much if ever asked. 

Being with Lucas, Eliott didn't feel very different though, just a little special. 

Special, because he was privy to a sleeping face, the vulnerable state that Lucas doesn't share with anyone else. 

Eliott knows his place beside Lucas is special because Lucas is demanding, he is petty, and childish—only ever doing things if it benefits him.

Self-serving to a fault. 

But Lucas brings lunch to the station for Eliott, even when there isn't a case that requires his presence. He shares his blankets when he claims he is a notorious blanket hog. 

Even let's Eliott hold him at night, pressed tightly against his chest, though he complains that he overheats easily. He drops the smallest kisses on Eliott's lips when no one is looking, and pulls away his face steaming from embarrassment because he is not one to show affection. 

But Eliott knows it's special because if Lucas does all this, that means he deems it beneficial for himself. 

The thought makes Eliott glow. He might not be  _ that _ different from the average person in Lucas's life, doesn't get to claim that physical intimacy that others do in their relationships, but he is special in his own right. 

So it's alright, Eliott thinks, for him to use his hands and only his hands for the time being. He holds out on hope.

Because sometimes Eliott is so filled with love from the way Lucas looks at him, drawing his bottom lip into his mouth and eyes lit with a heat, he can't help but think, Lucas wants him. 

And then that tiny voice echoes and reminds him, "  _ I don't think I'll be ready for it." _

And Eliott is back to pleasuring himself to thoughts of Lucas, often secretly in the bathroom or in their shared bed, Lucas dead asleep at his side. 

Those times, in the darkness Eliott forces his breathing to be steady, chest feeling so very tight his hands moving up and down his length ever so slowly. 

He pictures lips stretched to their limit, a mouth stuffed full and cheeks flushed with exertion. 

He can practically feel the inexperienced touch of tongue, lapping at the veins on the underside of his cock, a throat constricting as he fucks up into the heat. 

In his hand, between his fingers, the caress of Lucas's hair in his grip. Eliott is weak to the thought, his fingers spasming at the base of his cock. When he cums he pushes deep and silently groans as his fist simulates Lucas swallowing all of him down. 

He wants badly to paint those lush lips with his cum. Use his fingers to smear it until they glisten and he would gladly clean it up with feverish kisses where he tastes himself. 

Eliott realizes that things have only gotten increasingly difficult for him in the last five months when he finds himself, during a lull in the case, sporting an erection at the sight of his lover. 

Lucas who looked exceptionally beautiful in those cobalt silk pajamas that he decidedly wore  _ to _ the station when called in, because 

"It's not my fault, I was napping and Sofiane told me it was urgent, so I came as I was," he shrugs. 

It wasn't as if it were the first time he'd appeared at the station in his sleepwear. But Lucas doesn't make it a habit. 

Eliott sends him a tight indulgent smile as he watches Lucas pour over the documents they found just that morning in the suspects bedroom. 

Lucas stands behind the desk, bent over just the slightest, eyes narrowed as he takes in everything. 

His shirt hangs open and Eliott takes a moment to peek, to take in the exposed milky skin that practically begs to be marked up. Eliott would start at his nipples and lavish them with tongue, tug gently with his teeth until he pulls a whine from Lucas. Until they bead up and blush from his attention. 

His lips would mold against the dip of his collarbone, climb that neck until he found that soft spot beneath Lucas's chin and behind his ears, that spot that he knows will make the other's breath hitch, just right. 

Before he can help it Eliott finds himself hard and aching, the desk doing little to hide his state. 

He sits down and clears his throat. 

"Idriss and Sofiiane, go ahead and head home. I'll need you here bright and early tomorrow morning." 

They nod and thank him before clearly their station. The station is a little quieter with the lack of their presence. 

He pulls out his wallet and smiles at Lucas, ignoring the pulse and strain in his pants. The detective looks at him and for a moment it feels as if he has already exposed his intentions. Like Lucas knows exactly what he was planning. 

He rests his forearms, casually on the table top, throwing the wallet so it rests between them. 

"Are you hungry?" 

Lucas cocks a brow and huffs before looking away. 

"I'm not your assistant you know,"  _ technically  _ speaking, he was. 

"Lu, I'll send you with a driver to that little French eatery that you are so fond of to get us some lunch." 

A late lunch but Eliott wasn't quite hungry. He was more or less anxious to get some relief. Away from prying eyes. 

If he didn't think it would make Lucas uncomfortable, he would already have taken himself in hand and pleasured himself with Lucas firmly in his line of sight. 

But he is a gentleman. He wants to consider Lucas's feelings too.

He knows he said the right thing when he sees the way Lucas's face lights up, his mouth pulling up in a smile at the thought of having lunch at one of his favorite restaurants. One that they don't frequent too often simply because it was extremely pricey. 

But Eliott likes to treat Lucas on occasion if only to see him ridiculously content as he munches away on the food. And apparently he does it on the occasion that he can masturbate in his office in peace because he is weak to the beauty of his man. 

" _ Eliott _ , you are positively trying to spoil me today." 

And every other day. 

"What are you trying to hide?" Lucas drawls, like he is suspicious, but the smile remains. 

_ What I want to do to you. _

Eliott holds out his hands and flips them, his head shaking the slightest and he lets out a chuckle as he shifts in his seat, the fabric of his pants brushing against him in a way that almost forces a hiss from his mouth. 

He feels hazy, sure that Lucas can see the sweat that beads on his forehead as he watches him with a smile and careful eyes. 

Eliott thinks his lover is cruel but it doesn't make Eliott love Lucas any less. 

" _ Lucas _ , do I need a reason to spoil you?"  _ Treat you well, feed you, love you.  _

Lucas hums and takes the wallet, albeit a bit reluctantly.

"Fine, but let's not make this a habit." Lucas calls out after him and Eliott is quick to call for the driver the moment the doors close. 

He waits for a brief second in the quiet of the room, knowing that he is alone for sure before pushing away from the desk and pulling himself out. 

He hisses when the cool air hits him head on. The angry tip dribbling precum. He slides his fingers through the slick wetness and it provides a nice glide to his stroking. 

Eliott doesn't know how often he has imagined Lucas there kneeling under his desk, eyes going crossed as he worked the length with his mouth, proving it useful for more than just spewing obscure facts. 

When he needs to breathe, he'd pull off, those fingers carrying the weight of Eliott's cock and tapping it against his lips and cheeks as he peered up with red rimmed glassy eyes. 

Eliott strokes a little faster, gripping a little harder as he tries to catch up to the breath that runs from him. He doesn't muffle his groans as he hears,

" _Eliott,_ _I want you inside me."_

"Eliott, I forgo—" 

Eliott looks up but doesn't stop. A little too close to care that Lucas stands there staring. Hair a little windswept and his doe eyes wide in shock.

Cheeks a little flush at the sight before him. 

A little hope sits nicely on his chest when Eliott catches that gaze and realizes that Lucas wasn't looking away. 

That his eyes were riveted on Eliott's cock. Eyes shifting the slightest every time Eliott's fist would run over the tip of his cock, wrist twisting. He catches the way Lucas's throat bobs as he swallows.

Eliott wants to tell Lucas that this was all his, when he wants it.

"E-Eliott _ …"  _

The sound of his name coming from that mouth pushes him over the edge. His eyelids flutter close, mouth parted, a groan pulled from him as he cums harder than he has any other time in the last five months. 

He breathes heavily. Chest heaving and when he looks down at the mess on his uniform he almost regrets not just going to the bathroom and yanking one out in the toilet to save the headache of the clean up. 

When he feels that he has gathered his bearing he looks up through his lashes at Lucas. Waiting for a reaction but Lucas is entranced. Frozen in place and it isn’t until Eliott clears his throat that Lucas tries to straighten himself out, eyes lowered and mouth working open and closed but at a loss for words. 

A first for the detective. 

“I... I—just,” Lucas clears his throat and runs his palms down the front of his shirt before turning in place and leaving like he hadn't just interrupted. “Nevermind.”

Eliott doesn’t know if he is surprised or if he was expecting such a reaction but he finds himself laughing, shoulders shaking as he lays his head down on the table top. It was the first time Lucas has seen him so exposed and vulnerable. The first time Lucas has seen him in the middle of pleasing himself to the thought of the other man. 

As awkward as lunch was bound to be, because it will be, Eliott can't help but keep the happiness he feels close because Lucas reacted. 

Lucas with his flushed face and bobbing throat watching Eliott so closely hadn't simply turned around and walked away with disgust or worst—disinterest. 

He stayed there in the doorway, waited and watched as Eliott took his pleasure, messed his uniform with streaks of white. 

Lucas who looked interested and, if Eliott was to push it, a little more than hungry. 

He doesn't bring it up when Lucas comes back with food, eyes glued to the floor and cheeks still a bit pink. Eliott can tell Lucas wants to ask him a question, like the words are on the tip of his tongue every time he opens his mouth but refrains from actually speaking. 

Eliott doesn't invite him to, either. He wants Lucas to come to him on his own accord. To work up that courage to talk about this white elephant that sits in the room with them. 

He wants Lucas to be interested enough to finally say something. Eliott continues to eat his food, not at all embarrassed because he sits perfectly posh, not a hair out of place and any evidence of his earlier actions are gone. Like it never happened. 

He spoons some beef burgundy into Lucas's bowl without prompting and eats his own portion in silence. It isn't until Lucas huffs and places his spoon down none too gently that Eliott looks up, a picture of innocence. 

"You don't like the food tod—"

"Who were you thinking of?"

  
  


The question throws him and he pauses, spoon suspended in the air. He looks at Lucas wondering if the man was serious. 

He is. Shoulders slouched arms crossed over his chest and a glare set on his face accompanied by a frown. 

Eliott finds it all amusing because he has seen desire written into the lines of Lucas's face when he looks at an old historical vase. He has seen idignance spelled out whenever in the presence of Lucillle and her hardheaded accusations that Lucas was using Eliott. 

He has seen petulance. 

A sly manipulative smile. 

Lucas who has cracked a case. 

A look of happiness. 

He has yet to see, until now, the look of jealousy on his lover. 

Eliott likes it. A little too much.

His brows raise to his hair line as he moves to finish his meal that sat in front of him a little more than lukewarm. 

"Does it matter?" He asks instead of answering. It's a bit of a low blow, Eliott can admit but he can't deny he has a bit of a cruel streak. That he might like the image of Lucas a bit teary eyed and pouting —sad and wanting him. 

"Eliott, of course it matters! It matters to me if you are thinking of  _ someone else _ while you're with me. If you're not happy with me Eliott then let me know," he spews this out, voice louder than Eliott has heard in recent past, eyes locked on the wall behind Eliott. "Don't keep me around on my account! Especially if you're seeking out comfort fro—"

He looks every bit the perfect spoiled lover, throwing around demands and Eliott is sick from the butterflies in his stomach.

"It's you." Eliott interrupts. He can't imagine touching anyone else. Wanting anyone else, loving anyone else. 

He simply doesn't want to. 

"It's always you. Every time." 

Noone else. He couldn't bear it. 

"W-what? What do you mean?" 

Eliott lets out a sigh and places down his spoon, pushing his bowl away, giving up hope of finishing the food before it was completely cold. 

"Lu Lu, are you asking to tell you I was imagining your mouth wrapped around me?" 

The harsh intake of breath from Lucas doesn't stop him. 

"How you begged for my co—"

His voice grows muffled behind the palm that Lucas presses against his mouth. Eyes clenched shut and ears tinged red, Lucas his panting quietly. 

"S-stop, that's enough, Eliott....  _ shameless _ !" 

Eliott finds himself laughing, hands coming up to pry those fingers away, cradling them and dropping kisses on fingertips before letting go. 

"Don't you think it is you who is shameless," he throws back at the detective. "Accusing me of thinking of someone else. There will never be anyone else for me." 

_ So long as you stay by my side.  _

It's as if the words do something magical, cause Lucas to soften from the inside because his face melts into a look of pure love. Eyes hooded and lips set with a different sort of softness. He huffs and pulls his hands away slowly and turns back to his cooled stew. 

"It better be. I won't have you going around thinking of others while you're with me." He sniffs

Eliott looks at him fondly, nodding his acquiescence. It would be hard to think of others when his thoughts are filled with Lucas. 

There was no room. They continue to eat in silence when Lucas throws him a sly look. Eliott is almost sure that Lucas has a cruel streak that rivals his own.

"So…how often do you do  _ that?"  _

Eliott chokes on his stew, coughing as he waves Lucas away with a flap of his hands. 

"Ah, come stop asking silly questions and eat, your food has gone cold." He chides, brows furrowing in faux anger. 

"We still need to look over the evidence and figure out what our next steps will be." 

He steers the conversation to safer territory because he isn't quite sure he is ready to answer that question. 

Doesn't really know if he could give an accurate answer. 

Lucas snorts and digs into his food with a bit more gusto. 

"We'll be paying a visit to that friend of yours, Lola, at the bordello."

Eliott takes pause at the information, not really surprised that Lucas has already figured out their next steps but more a pause for the fact that he would be visiting a place he hasn't frequented since...well, since he met Lucas, aside from that one time, a case that was solved rather quickly. 

Where Lola met Lucas and Lucas was a little out of his element trying to interview the witnesses. 

"Why the long face? Won't it be nice to meet with an old friend?"

Eliott nods, swallowing thickly around a sense of dread. 

"It will be."

He isn't wrong in his deduction. Stepping back through the doors of le Chabanais was oddly like a homecoming. The waft of perfume tickling his nose, tinkling laughter as hands pawed at him and pulled him in. It's easy to fall back into his role, his smile welcoming and eyes bright, words sweet like sugar on his tongue. 

Eliott feels bad for the way their eyes are downcast when he tells them he is there for official business. 

Wants to whisper to them,

" _ I'm here with my lover _ ." So as to give them something to gossip about. Have their lives move forward. 

"Has Eliott already forgotten us? Don't you want to remember? How about one night, _we can make it so you don't forget._ "

Eliott thinks of how, before Lucas he would have never turned down such an offer. How he might have been the one to speak words of encouragement while the ladies played coy and hard to get. That, by the end of the night, he would have them in a bed, more than satisfied and wrecked. 

But he doesn't feel his pulse jump with a thrill to chase. He looks at them and finds their beauty striking but what calls for him, what makes his head turn is the man that stands behind him. 

When he looks back, Lucas is there with mock confidence in his stance but the tremors of uncertainty sung out in the way Lucas does his best to extract his hand from a persistent young lady that Eliott recalls, liked it when he called her pet names. 

Who liked it when he was familiar with her. Lucas shoots him a look that begs for his interference. 

Eliott shrugs his shoulders and turns away, indulging in the slight panicked look that crosses Lucas's face. 

"Eliott."

Eliott turns and is greeted with the familiar face of Lola, body accentuated and looking beautiful in a  _ little black dress _ . He steps close to greet her. 

"It seems lately you only visit for official business." 

He has the mind to feel contrite at the thinly veiled reprimand. 

Lola with that sharp smile and hard glint in her eyes. He finds that he, indeed, misses her company. 

"Lola, forgive me. I've been a little busy." 

"Oh? Word on the street is that someone has charmed their way into your bed?" 

Her eyes lock behind him where he is sure, Lucas stands behind him still fending off the touches of le Chabanais' finest. 

"And since when have you ever paid attention to what is spoken on the streets?" He counters, smile wide and giving little away. 

She scoffs but fails to hide her own smile, her head turned away from him as she gestures to one of the girls to clear a room for Eliott; to make him comfortable. 

" I've always done so to make a living." 

Listening carefully keeps one alive on the streets of Paris. This Eliott knows well. 

"Whatever has kept you away, just know the girls have mourned the loss of your company." 

He wants to feel bad but finds it hard because guilt doesn't quite tug at him like he thought it would. Because he doesn't feel guilty for falling in love. 

She pulls him in by the arm, grip tighter than expected. 

"Let us sit and catch up, your  _ friend _ can come along too." She says this louder and the action behind them quiets. 

Eliott hears the hurried steps before Lucas appears next to him flustered and looking a little peeved at being left behind. 

They find themselves sitting in a room, Lola to his left, Lucas to his right and two girls( he can't quite remember the names of but is sure he has slept with) sitting to Lucas's right. 

It wasn't hard to get the information that they needed. What with his witnesses being willing to spill what little they knew of the suspect and victim. 

He takes the opportunity to relax for a moment, his body easily falling into old habits as the scent of oils soothe him. He talks quietly with Lola; finds out how she is really doing. 

Reassures her that if she ever needs it, if ever a customer gets too rough, he would send an army. She answers in kind, relaxed and her smile, a little more genuine. His attention is riveted. Because it has been too long since he has spoken to her.

So caught up in her recounting of stories he almost misses the exchange that happens to his right. 

"So you're the _one_ who stole Eliott from us. Go on, what can you do that we can’t?" _What do you offer him?_ Eliott hears the accusation. Hears the heat and bite. 

Lucas grows absolutely still next to him. Quiet for a moment before he demonstrates the use of that sharp tongue. 

“Stealing would imply you had him in the first place. It might come as a surprise to you, but being with someone— it isn’t always about sex.”

The girls giggle, eyes keen and a little cruel. 

“He has a mouth on him,” her companion croons, “but what whore doesn’t?”

“You—”

“ _ Ah! _ don’t be cruel, he’s no whore. Seems a little green behind the ears to me. Tell us  _ detective _ , if it isn’t about the thrill—about the sex and what we bring to the table—tell us why  _ husbands _ dedicated to their wives seek out our comfort? Why do they seek us out to make their nights a little less lonely?” 

Eliott turns, feeling a wash of aggravation pump through his veins. He wants to chide them, remind them that what Lucas does and doesn't do is none of their business. But Lola is quicker, her reprimand sharp. 

"Perhaps, girls, you should go take a bath to wash off that sour stench before night falls. We don't make habits of running off our customers. Why start now?” She cocks a brow. 

Before they could get up Lucas is standing, chair barely making a sound as he pushes it in. His hands stuffed deep in his pockets and Eliott wonders how relaxed he actually feels. 

How much of it does he put on in the face of their mocking. Because Eliott might be imagining it, but he reads the slight insecurity in that smile. 

Eliott fails to decipher the difference between what he imagines and what is in front of him sometimes. Especially when the subjects of his thoughts are centered on this particular man. 

Like an enigma he can't solve. But a mystery there, for Eliott, and  _ only  _ Eliott, to unravel at his own pace. 

But Lucas stands tall like he's got it figured out. Like he doesn't need Eliott to swoop in and save him. 

"Let me explain since you seem confused. You are mistaking dedication and duty with love. They are not one in the same. When you find love, you'll be able to see the difference." 

He reaches for a slice of bread at the center of the table and bites into it, not a little bit ashamed for what he implies. 

Their faces flushed and eyes narrowed. Lucas turns towards Lola, bread roll in hand and glistening with his spit and marred with marks of his teeth. 

"You might consider replacing these, they're a bit stale." 

Her smile tight, she responds. "If you're looking for food you can find that at the many stalls that line the streets. We are not a restaurant, but a whore house, in case you've forgotten."

Lucas nods his head, contemplative as he chews, eyes blinking. He takes another bite and smiles, calling out a thank you around a mouth full before reaching for the last two on the plate, stuffing them in his pockets, looking silly. 

Lucas gives a one handed wave before leaving the room alone. 

"Lu!" Eliott calls out but the other pointedly ignores him. 

Lucas might not need Eliott to come to his rescue all the time— maybe when things turn violent while on a case or when there is a dog around—but perhaps this time he would have  _ liked  _ Eliott to step in. 

Eliott shakes his head half exasperated and half fond. He doesn't know what he is to do with his lover. Storming off and taking food like a common thief. Like Eliott doesn't feed him well enough. 

He turns to Lola who has a look of consternation on her face. When she locks gaze with him she lets out an audible sigh. 

"You sure know how to choose them Eliott _.  _ I apologize on their," she gestures to the girls who sit pouting, eyes glued to the table, "behalf."

He shakes his head. "Think nothing of it." 

Eliott doesn't leave until Lola has made him promise to stop by for some conversation between friends. She tells him to definitely bring Lucas. 

"Your lover, he has a jealous streak that runs as long as the Loire runs wide." 

Eliott can only smile indulgently at the thought that his Lucas is jealous. But he agrees then leaves, Lucas already waiting by the car. He's looking everywhere but at Eliott, almost lazy with his intake of his surroundings. 

The ride is quiet on the way back, the air a bit stifling if Eliott was to be honest. It wasn't until they'd park that Lucas speaks. His fingers tapping away at his lips as if thinking. 

"You've slept with those girls." 

It's not a question so much as a statement of truth but it makes Eliott reach across the divide and weave his fingers with Lucas. 

Lucas was shorter, limbs long and flesh soft while Eliott was taller and lean. Built with firm muscles and skin rough, marked up with whispers of scars from his time on the streets. His own hands, in comparison, were calloused and couldn't compare to the softness that was the weight of Lucas's hands in his. 

It was one of Eliott's favorite aspects of the other man. His fingers long and delicate—just right for practicing something with the arts, perhaps calligraphy—fitting perfectly together with Eliott's. 

This time was no different. 

"Lu, If it helps to know, I don't even remember their names." And he isn't lying. He doesn't. Eliott's thumb rubs soothing circles on the back of Lucas's hand. 

He can barely recall their faces now, while his eyes are busy staring at Lucas. 

Lucas and his soft cheeks, petaled lips set in a pout, and dark doe eyes. 

Lucas was beautiful. And Eliott was ruined. Completely and utterly ruined. 

"I suppose—I, well...there's a movie I'd like to see. This weekend it's showing at the cinema. You'll take me."

Eliott is glad nothing changes. Because Lucas has taken away his warm touch and is out of the car in a matter of seconds after laying down his demands. His head ducked in the open door, the palest pink dusting the bridge of his nose— the only sign that he was affected—as he eyes Eliott. 

"And dinner. We'll have dinner before the movie." 

He closes the door without waiting for a response and is gone from sight. 

Eliott sits back, head resting as he stares at the roof of his car, a smile playing on his face as he is struck by the thought that he might just be a masochist. The way that he lives happily tortured by the presence of this man. 

He thinks that he has avoided the disaster that the day could have been. That things could go on the way that it was but Eliott finds that there is a slight shift in the air. 

Lucas goes about his day, whines a little when he is hungry but too lazy to cook. Positively glowing when Eliott gets door delivery from the food stalls down the street. 

What is slightly different, that throws Eliott for a loop, is how Lucas readies himself for bed. 

He comes out of the shower hair damp, skin flushed, and wearing a loose button down and nothing else. His beloved silk pajamas nowhere to be seen. It's one of Eliott's shirt, wide and hanging from the shoulders because Eliott is broader. The shirt tail completely covers his ass, brushing against creamy thighs, what with Lucas being shorter. 

When he stretches, Eliott finds himself biting at his tongue and looking away, heat pooling and pants growing tight. He sits on the couch, newspaper open in front of him but he doesn't understand a word he reads. 

Eliott can feel the heat from the body that siddles up on the couch, those legs—legs that he had dreamt of holding together tightly and fucking between clamped thighs, legs that he wishes he can bite at and suck on the skin, leave trails of pretty red love marks—folded as Lucas practically presses up against him. 

"Are you coming to bed?" He spoke, voice quiet and almost  _ shy _ .

Eliott turns and finds that Lucas is sitting impossibly close and his lips are ever so tempting. If he wanted he could just barely lean in and trace those lips with his tongue. 

He clears his throat and does his best to erase those thoughts. It would do him no good to get hard with Lucas in such close proximity. 

"Soon." 

He nods and turns away, movements slow before turning back and quick, and as if having worked up the courage, he presses a kiss to Eliott's lips. 

Not his usual kiss. Not just the slightest tap of skin but more of a Eliott type of kiss. Where their lips slot together but remain closed. And when they pull apart, it's slow. 

Eliott is, to say the least, a little more than surprised but Lucas doesn't let him think on it too long before he is up and moving away and closing the bedroom door behind him. 

It takes 20 minutes after that goodnight kiss before Eliott has calmed himself enough and willed his erection away. Lucas shifts when Eliott slides into bed beside him. He curses when he catches sight of those legs again. 

He doesn't think he'd make it through the night. Alive. And he isn't wrong. 

Because, for all his complaints of cuddling and being too warm at night, Lucas is pressed close to Eliott with barely anything separating them. 

Eliott knows that if he were to lift the blankets, to peek down he would see his cock, straining in his pants and nestled nicely against the cleft of Lucas's ass. It doesn't help that everytime Lucas shifts, the friction steals his breath away. 

When it becomes too much Eliott resolves to spend another night hiding out in the bathroom, breathless and quietly moaning to himself. What he doesn't expect, what stops him dead in his tracks when he has finally come down from his heightened pleasure, when he opens the door to find his lover standing there, hips cocked, arms crossed and hair ruffled from being pressed against the pillow. 

Face glowing from the moonlight and eyes lacking the haze of sleep. 

Eliott stands in the doorway a little awed at the sight of him. Wondering if his addled brain materialized Lucas from thin air or if he was really there. Like the night was playing tricks on him. 

  
  


"I need the bathroom." Lucas admits, voice almost exasperated, like he  _ knew _ what Eliott was doing. And as if a little embarrassed at being caught, though recognizing he has no reason to feel like that—seeing how touching himself to the thoughts of his lover was completely normal and totally expected— Eliott steps aside and moves out of the way. 

Lucas pauses for a moment, sighs like he has something to say before twisting his body, that night shirt riding impossibly high. 

"You—"

Eliott waits but he wants to urge him on. Use his fingers to pry those words from his mouth. Eliott feels on fire and so, so confused—

"You can...do that in bed. I don't mind." 

—in the best way. 

He can see it, the way Lucas tries to turn back, to hide the heat on his face and it makes him break out in a grin. Like the words spoken are woven with gold and Eliott hits the jackpot. 

"O-only if you want to!" 

"...Lu, what are you saying?" 

There's a teasing lilt and he knows he's pushing it because Lucas tilts his head, looking down his nose at Eliott. 

His eyes narrowed into a glare. 

"What are you smiling about?" He scoffs. " Fine, forget I said anything." 

Of course Eliott couldn’t forget. 

  
  
  
  


Not when Lucas doesn't let him. It seems every corner he turns, every moment he is awake or every second he is in the other man's presence, the detective is trying to remind him in some way. 

Like he holds a sign that states clearly.  _ I am here, touch me; t _ he message too clear to miss. 

Lucas stands closer than before, his fingers linger when they reach out for Eliott. At night he waits for Eliott to come to bed by the day he appears with less clothing and all the more revealing. 

The smaller brunette acts like everything is normal like he doesn’t make Eliott wish he would see those tantalizing silk pajamas on his lover once again. Like Eliott wasn’t fighting with tunnel vision every time he even looked in Lucas’ direction. 

And the kisses. The way Lucas drops kisses on his lips when they wake, when they part at the door—at the station when he is called in. 

More and more of the contact, lasting longer and longer with every bold mood. Eliott feels elevated, invincible and so in love. 

Of course he uses his hands, he still thinks of Lucas and their shared bed, plagued by thoughts of ways he can make his lover come undone. 

Only, things change. There, in the night, in their bed and next to a sleeping Lucas curled up on his side—Eliott continues to take his pleasure. The feeling of lightness, like he wasn't doing anything wrong for once, makes him float as he reaches his highs. And when he comes down and his eyes open, head shifting slightly and he finds those blue eyes open, staring at him. 

A little peach blush glowing in the night and splashed across cheekbones. But instead of pushing him away indignantly or stuttering and stumbling over his own words, Lucas lies there with his eyes soft and lips parted. He moves in closer until he is pressed up nice and tight against Eliott and the warmth of acceptance blankets Eliott. 

And it happens more often as the days pass. 

Elevated. Invincible. So in love. 

So much so that when he finds himself in his quiet morning at the station disrupted one morning by Lucille's sour face, he simply smiles at her and welcomes her in. 

She's cautious, stares at him with calculating green eyes arms loosely folded across her chest. She takes a seat in the leatherback chair across from him, his wide mahogany desk a divide between them. 

"You're positively glowing, it's disgusting." So in love, that his demeanor drips with it. In the way he sits, in the way he talks—his smile, soft and indulgent as he thinks of the man who was most likely lying in wait for him in their shared home. 

"Am I?" He counters as he signs off on documents and paychecks, fingers twirling the golden pen that Lucas has told him on at least two occasions,

" _ Definitely would look nice in my collection, don't you think Eliott? _ "

Eliott pockets it before the ink dries and he looks up at Lucille through his fringe. 

"Mm, yes. Things going well with Lucas?" 

Eliott pushes his chair back and rests his hands on his lap as he crosses his legs and hums. 

"What are you doing here, Lucille?" 

He takes her smile for what it is, her voice growing sugary sweet. 

"Nothing! Honest, I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop by. What? Am I not welcomed,  _ brother _ of mine?" 

Barely holding back his sigh, Eliott finds himself breaking out into a genuine smile. 

"Of course yo—"

"I also saw Lola on my way over here, she says Hello."

Eliott narrows his eyes the slightest before looking away. He shifts the slightest in his chair as he regards her. 

She examines her nails in that fashion that Eliott has grown accustomed to ever since they were kids. A motion that says,  _ I've figured it all out.  _

"She told me something interesting"

"And what did she tell you?"

Lucille lowers her hand onto the desk and leans closer, whispering conspiratorially. Like her next words are a closely guarded secret. 

"That you met up for a case a couple of weeks ago—that some of her girls were being particularly  _ rude _ to Lucas." 

He remains quiet for a moment. Lets her soak up the attention and suspense; dramatic as she always has been, Lucille eats it up. When he doesn't respond after minutes she huffs and slaps her palm on the table a couple of times as if to get him to wake up. 

"You don't get it? Let me guess, Lucas has been more affectionate, more  _ loving _ ," she rolls her eyes." Hasn't he?" 

He chooses not to confirm or deny but it's clear that Lucille smells his momentary lapse, perhaps it was a shift in the air but she latches on, hungry. 

"How can you not see that he is trying to keep you and use you for your money and status? After seeing who you used to have he realizes he could lose you so he needs to try to keep you with sex!!" 

Because Eliott could get sex anywhere. Because Lucas wasn't offering and maybe, he realized that by withholding, he was only going to push Eliott away. 

But that wasn't the case and it was never the case. 

"I don't think you know Lucas." He sags back into his seat, eyes a little sharper, mood darkened. His fingers itch to grab hold of something if only to feel the struggle. 

"Mm, but he was  _ so  _ generous with his body before right?" She says mockingly. She unfolds her legs and picks up her bag, fingers moving to tuck a wavy curl behind her ears. 

"You know I love you like a brother. I just want you to think about it. It doesn't make sense why he is suddenly all into you."

She turns to see herself out of his office, door closing gently behind her and Eliott is left to look at the empty seat in front of him. 

He goes about his day, mouth filled with a bland taste of something he couldn't shake. Idriss and Sofiane help to solve the minor disputes around town and when they catch their chief inspector looking off into the distance, mind somewhere far away from where they stood, convened—they send him home. 

He smiles gratefully. On his way back, he stops by Lucas favorite restaurant down near the main strip and orders take out. He doesn't blink twice at the price because he can see the way those baby blues would light up with pure joy. 

How he would clap his hand giddly and offer to set the table, struggling to reach the plates and bowls in the high cabinets. 

Eliott's steps are heavy on the stairs and when he enters the apartment, food in hand, Lucas is just coming from a shower, dressed in one of Eliott's shirts. A black tee shirt that reaches the top of his thighs. His eyes are wide and face flushed from the steam that billows out from behind him.

Eliott catches himself staring and he snaps his eyes away lest he forgets the food he just spent a fortune on. 

"Idriss called, told me you were on your way home— _ oh,  _ did you pick up what I think you picked up?"

And there is that look, that unadulterated joy that Lucas feels when he is gifted with the finest foods. 

Gently, he takes the bags from Eliott and brings them over the table setting it down like precious cargo. But instead of setting the table, Lucas turns slowly and looks at Eliott, eyes impossibly blue and gnawing on his lower lip. 

Eliott steps closer in his lover's space, switches their position making it necessary for Lucas to crane his neck if he wants to keep eye contact.

Which he does and it provides Eliott with the perfect opportunity to run his fingertips over the warmed skin of his neck. He is in love with how pampered Lucas' skin feels. It builds up the feeling inside Eliott, the need to protect him at all cost. 

He moves until his back is rested against the edge of the table and pulls Lucas closer so that he perfectly fits between his legs. 

“How about we set the table.”

“H-how about we go to the bedroom.” The words escape Lucas in a rushed whisper and Eliott stops. 

He slows his touches and leans back until he can see Lucas perfectly, like the very first time he caught sight of him from across the bar.

LIke when he wakes earlier than the other and the sunlight cuts acrossLucas’ face, all of the warmth a projection of Eliott’s feelings for his lover. It’s when they are in the middle of a case and shrouded with danger but Eliott looks over at the panicked face of his lover,in case he doesn't get that chance again by the end of the day.

“Lu, you know that means the food will grow cold.” 

Eliott loves this man. With everything he has. He snorts when he sees Lucas look to the side, eyeing the bags, a huff on the tip of his tongue. 

“We...we can reheat.” Lucas says, unsure and unconvincingly. Eliott shifts the slightest, hands reaching down to grab at Lucas’ hands, thumbs running in circles on Lucas’ inner wrist. 

“Have I ever made you feel uncomfortable, Lu?” Eliott wants to know. He wants to be sure that he does not put Lucas in a place where he feels forced into anything.

“What? No. Never. Eliott,  _ never. _ ” 

Lucas looks up concerned, brows dived low,mouth working open and closed. 

“Then what is this? Has this man said or done something to make you feel like you need to do  _ this?” _

Lucas’ eyes flicker over the planes of Eliott’s face. 

“Is this not what you want?” 

Eliott wants to wrap his arms around his love and provide him comfort. Eliott can see how the thought of this has weighed on Lucas but Eliott wants to make it clear. 

"What I want, what I  _ need _ is for you to feel comfortable. For you, Lu, to do only what you are comfortable with. Never against your desires."

Lucas looks down at the floor. 

"You never pushed. Eliott, you've been so kind and supportive _.  _ You let me take and take and— it's not that I  _ can _ 't, it's that it is not something I ever feel I need. What I desire is for you to feel wanted and for you to know that I want you."

But he knows that. Eliott doesn't need Lucas to remind him. 

"I'm not uncomfortable, If anything, I'm comfortable  _ because _ it's you," Lucas licks his lips and diverts his eyes as his cheeks grow pink. "I-I'm just not sure how because I've never…"

It's sweet. His nervousness is like untouched nectar. Ripe and ready, but he's holding back because he is unsure how, and dear god Eliott is very willing to teach him. 

But he won't if Lucas feels forced. 

"Why now?" 

Lucas pulls away, hands crossed and he tilts his head, hair still slightly dampened from his shower. The move sends a waft of cedar at Eliott and he closes his eyes, breathing in deeply. He loves the scent of him, who indulges in oils of all kind. 

Lavish. 

"It's not… I didn't know how to really approach it before. I  _ knew _ you are comfortable with sex, after our visit though, I realized just  _ how _ comfortable you are with it." 

Eliott smiles wistfully. 

"You're not doing this just because you're jealous?" 

"You think I'd share this part of myself just because I'm jealous?" Lucas asks, voice sharp. 

Daring Eliott. 

Yes. Eliott thinks. His love is petty and childish. His love is contemplative and serious. His love was a jealous human. 

"Of course not." He smiles and tries to sound contrite for even implying such a thought. 

"And when I touch myself, thinking of my Lu, that's still okay?" 

He fights the urge to bend and lick away at the blotches of red that paints Lucas' face. To hold him steady as he presses deep kisses against warmed skin. 

" _ Only _ if it's me." Lucas mutters. 

Eliott catches the slight jump of Lucas' pulse on his neck. 

"And when we start this, _ together _ , you'll be honest. You'll tell me what you like," his fingers walk up the length of Lucas' bare arms slowly as the flesh shivers from the contact. 

Eliott wants to warm him. Hold Lucas tight and never let go. 

"And if you don't like it then we stop." No questions asked. Because this wasn't just an Eliott affair and he was going to do everything in his power to make Lucas understand this. 

Because pleasure and passion was not a one way street for Eliott and he will not be taking or indulging if it were just him who took, took, and took. 

His fingers glide across Lucas' exposed collarbone then drifts up, a ghost touch against that neck, against that pulse until he grips that chin between his fingers and draws out a slow gasp. 

"Can I kiss you."

Lucas stands on his tiptoes and touches their lips together. 

The innocence of it warms Eliott. Sets his heart ablaze with a passion. When they pull apart Eliott eats up the blush on his lover's face. He bends closer, drops a kiss on the corner of Lucas' mouth. 

"Can I kiss you the way I want to?" He whispers, lips moving to nip and pull at Lucas' ears. He smiles when Lucas pulls away, breath coming out fast, head bobbing a yes.

"Open your mouth." 

Lucas follows his words like a star student, mouth dropping open just the slightest. Pink tongue tempting Eliott, filling him with an urge that he finally gives into. 

Eliott licks his way in, tongue tracing teeth and catching on lips. Eliott pours himself into it, breathes harshly through his nose as they connect on a level that he'd already given up on. Every little sound, a moan, and Lucas' stuttered breathing, the rapid pumping of his chest. 

It's overwhelming, practically magic as his vision swims and Eliott pulls away, resting their foreheads together, their breath mingling. 

It doesn't matter that it took them months to get here. That Lucas didn't know where to start until now because so long as he knows that it starts with the two of them, with,

"Us, together. Come here." 

Eliott pulls Lucas in, hand wrapping around his narrow waist, the shirt cinching and accenting. It drives him crazy, fees himself drip with lust as he walks them both towards the couch. 

He lathers the other in soft touches. Pushes that shirt up and asks kindly for Lucas to hold it up so that he might work on marking up skin until it blushes and bruises. 

Until the marks are unmistakably his. It's a surprise to see Lucas has nothing on underneath, his cock semi hard and exposed and Eliott delights in the sight, mouth moving and burning a path of pleasure. 

"Ah! E-Eliott…"

The weight sits heavy on his tongue. He bobs his head taking Lucas in, sucking, swallowing until that length thickens, hardens and shows off just how good Eliott makes him feel. 

Every keen whine and gasp. The call of his name. It fuels Eliott more and more and more as he makes Lucas nice and slick with his spit. 

Eliott knows pleasure. He knows how the body works and sex for him can be love personified. A physical reaction that screams, _ I am with you, intimately.  _

But it is different with Lucas.

He dips two fingers into that warm and tight heat, slowly. Wanting Lucas to feel that drag and pull, pushing deep in until his hand catches on the ring of muscle. 

It is different because with Lucas it wasnt just being physical, it wasn't just intimacy, it was like being one with him. Lucas' pleasure was Eliott's. There was nothing separate about things he does and wants to do. 

He adds a finger, tongue moving down to join in. His other hand smooths over milky thighs as muscles jump and twitch from the stimulation. 

"Baby, does it feel good?" 

Blues eyes stare down at him, tears clinging to lashes, mouth and teeth biting down on the shirt he wears. The fabric soaked with spit. 

Eliott rubs incessantly at the spot and those legs kick out, he is granted with the beautiful sound of Lucas coming undone. 

"Eliott—ah!...ngh, please!" 

Eliott pulls his fingers our slowly, admires the way Lucas looks, spread out before him, skin blushing from his thighs to his face. 

"Look at the way you're taking me in, like you're a natural." 

He moves them both until they're sitting, his back flushed against the couch and Lucas on his lap and faced away from him. 

He tugs the shirt off until all of Lucas lays bare, uses his arm to lift those legs and hold those thighs to that blushing chest. 

"....haa..aa...stop looking at me like that." Lucas reaches behind to grab at the couch using the leverage to hold himself up, exposed. Open. 

"How am I looking at you?" Eliott rasps, as he licks and kisses at Lucas' shoulders. His fingers slide in easily, two. Then three. Wrist pushing his fingers in deeply, in then out. He works at a punishing pace as the angle allows him to reach farther than before. 

The body above him strums and trembles. 

"...like you want to eat me." 

He does. He wants to utterly consume him in all sense of the matter.

"Do you think you can take one more?" His catches his pinky on the rim. Pushes in the tip and imagines the slight burn that Lucas feels. That burn that draws a gasp from him or makes his fingers move to curl into the hair at the base of Eliott's neck, then pulls. 

"It won't, I c-can't.. a...aah! E...Eli don't." 

Eliott's muscles burn in the best way.

"Should I use those oils you like so much?" The ones that calms and relaxes Eliott everytime he catches wind of it. 

The scents that remind Eliott of Lucas. 

"Or should I stop. Tell me to stop and I will, Lu." He pulls one finger out. Slows his movements. Because he would do anything for Lucas. Even if it means stopping before it even starts. 

Lucas clenches his eyes and shakes his head before turning, peaking out at Eliott through wet lashes. 

"In, put it back in.  _ Stop teasing me."  _

Eliott pulls away his hand despite the whine that Lucas lets out, he spits into his palms.

Hands slick, he moves back in eyes darting down to watch the way Lucas sucks him in. 

He groans at the sight but ignores the tightness in his own pants. Lucas has his head thrown back, slim legs jostled with Eliott's rough movements, thighs still pressed tight against his chest. 

Beautiful. Eliott wants to ask, if this was different. If this was better than all his other times. 

Does he want more? 

His pinky slides in with little resistance and Eliott closes his eyes to the feeling. 

"God, so  _ full.  _ Eliott, f-uc...fa— ah! Faster! _ Please more _ ."

Something inside him sings, _noone_. That Lucas has never asked  _ anyone _ for more, before. That he is the first and will be the last. 

His fingers move rapidly, brutal as he brings Lucas to new heights giving him pleasure that he's never felt before. When he comes, pearlescent streaks painting his chest and collar, Lucas curls his toes and he stops breathing.

It's a sight that Eliott cherishes—memorizes all the angles as his heart beats in tandem with Lucas' harsh breathing. 

He slows his thrusting to a stop, lets go of Lucas legs and lowers him and Lucas flops, boneless and exhausted. With his clean hand he runs his fingers through Lucas' damp hair. Pushing it back and carding through it gently. 

"You didn't get to come." 

Eliott drops a kiss on Lucas' temple. His sweet love.

"I don't need to." Not yet. Not now. But he will. "I should get cleaned up so we can set the table." 

"But I—"

"Lu, are you feeling tired?" 

Lucas sags against Eliott. 

"What do you think. You worked me so hard." 

Eliott chuckles, he drops another kiss on his temple, breathes in the smell that was his lover spent and exhausted. His lips sweep across the planes of the face that has help him captive since they first met. 

"We'll take things slow. I'm in no rush."

"Okay."

Eliott helps clean his love down, and maybe if his lips wandered and followed the warming touch of a face cloth on heated skin, Lucas didn't complain. 

When he sets the table and pours them both a glass of whiskey. He shares a look with Lucas over the rim of his glass. Sees the blush that has made home on those cheeks. 

Perhaps its been there all this time, he muses. 

His thought fleeting. He has all the time to explore. To get his answers, so long as he continues to move through life with Lucas by 

Eliott could wait a lifetime and everything would still be fine. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I dunno. Comments? Thoughts?


End file.
